


Keep hittin' me, I love it

by moon_hotel



Category: Punch-Out!! (Video Games)
Genre: Aftercare, Blood, Bruises, Consensual Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 04:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_hotel/pseuds/moon_hotel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A good man (to beat you up) is hard to find. Luckily, Aran Ryan has his big, scary Russian buddy to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep hittin' me, I love it

Aran Ryan sailed into the locker room, knocking over a bench on his way to the ground. He staggered upwards, panting, sweat dripping off his flushed face, groping against the concrete as he tried to pull himself up.  
  
Soda got to him first. He dug a huge, strong hand down into Aran's hair, yanked him up, and with one effortless movement sent him crashing into the lockers. The sound echoed horribly in the room. If there were anyone else left in the gym, they would have called the cops by now.  
  
"Ya god damn…" Aran slurred, looking up at Soda through blurry eyes. He had a massive bruise on his forehead and the side of his face was swollen and puffy. "Son of a…"  
  
Wordlessly Soda took one step over and closed the distance between them, looming over Aran. He was gigantic, and he looked even bigger with Aran crumpled against the lockers underneath him. He knelt down and grabbed Aran's hair again, roughly, peering at him.  
  
"The fuck are ya lookin' at?" Aran spat, squinting at him. "Ugly son of a bitch!" For all that, though, Soda didn't have a single scratch on him. Not like Aran did.  
  
Soda gave him a hard look. Not angry, but firm. "You ready?" he asked.  
  
Aran hesitated, then nodded, tugging against Soda's fist.  
  
"No," Soda corrected, grinning from ear to ear. "Not yet."   
  
Aran had just enough time for his eyes to go wide before Soda turned and hurled him roughly against the wall. "Fuck!" he cried out, and he tensed up as he felt his friend's massive hand wind into his hair once more. "Fuck, Soda!"  
  
"All right," he replied, in his thick Russian accent. " _Now_ you're ready."  
  
Aran breathed out a long, raspy _hahhh_ as Soda tilted his head back. He could barely see him through his puffy, bleary eyes, but he felt his huge cock slide easily between Aran's open lips.  
  
His eyes started to drift closed as Soda fucked him, his cock pushing against his tongue,  his fist clenching tight in Aran's hair. He huffed out harsh breaths through his nose, swallowing again and again. Sometimes Soda would pull out, leaving Aran gasping in the cold air before he slid back in with a groan.   
  
He didn't know why, okay? He didn't know why he got off so hard on being smacked around, feeling the sting of a slap in the face and the dull ache of bruises on his ribs. He didn't know why he wanted to be treated like this, rough and disposable, sucking on someone's cock because they wanted to get off and his mouth was as good a hole as any. But it felt good. It felt fucking good.  
  
It took him a moment to realize Soda had finished, leaving Aran panting and swallowing around his softening cock. He pulled back and Aran tugged his pants down with his raw hands, wrapping them shakily around his own flush cock. "Fuck," he moaned, jerking himself eagerly, fumbling as he felt the ache of every bruise and blow on his body. "Fuck, fuck…"  
  
It didn't take more than a minute for him to come, writhing against the wall, biting down on his bleeding lip, moaning through his teeth. He heard the low chuckle of Soda above him, watching him, and he trembled all over, shoving his hips up hard as he shot onto his stomach and up to his bony chest.   
  
He slumped against the wall for a few moments, breathing hard.  
  
"All done?" Soda asked.  
  
Aran nodded. "Uh…uh-huh."  
  
"Come on." He felt Soda kneel down and lift him to his feet. "Time to clean up."  
  
"Awright, sure…" Aran muttered, but the first step he took sent him stumbling back to the ground. "Shit!"  
  
"It's fine," Soda murmured, propping him up as he led him over to the showers. "It's all right."  
  
It was like trying to wake up from a really, really good dream. Things were blurry, kind of slow, and Aran protested as Soda undressed him and got him in one of the showers. "I can do it," he insisted, but Soda shook his head. No arguing with the giant Russian man.   
  
The shower helped. Soda cleaned all the shit off of him, the cum and blood and whatever else, and Aran slowly began to drift back down to Earth as they got dressed. "Ya didn't have to do that now," he mumbled, embarrassed. "Gimme a shower like I'm a feckin' kid."  
  
"I like it," Soda replied simply _._  
  
"Yeah, well…" Aran rubbed at his messy hair with a towel. "Thanks. For that an'…the other thing."  
  
"Next time," Soda said nonchalantly, throwing his coat back on, "I want to wrestle."  
  
"Wrestle? That's not fair, man. Yer so damn big."  
  
"Fair!" Soda laughed, giving Aran a playful punch in the shoulder that still sent him wobbling. "I thought you didn't like to play fair."


End file.
